Perfect Dark
by sillynekorobs
Summary: When an unexpected disaster strikes the Underground base Daxter finds himself trapped with his best friend's dark alter ego, a fate almost certainly equivalent to death. Or... maybe not...? WAFF


**AN:** And now, dear readers, for something entirely different. This fic was written strictly because I wanted to do something with Dark Jak as a main character, and this was the idea that I came up with. (Also, I really like the actual dark… like what happens around you when you turn out the lights? It helps me sleep, and I love to sleep. So yes, yay for the dark.) Hope you all enjoy it!

**Disclaimer:** Daxter, Jak, Jak's alter ego, Torn's right foot… they all belong to Naughty Dog, Inc. I'm just tormenting them temporarily. And I have been helpfully informed by my dear contemporary Sej that "Perfect Dark" is also the title to a game. I don't own that game, either… which is probably a good thing, as I formerly wasn't aware of its existence…

**For Your Info:** This ficlet takes place during the Jak II timeline and has nothing to do with my other Jak 'n' Dax story. So don't worry about continuity, because there isn't any. Now, onward!

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The blast, when it came, was entirely unexpected. It ripped through the Underground base with a deafening boom, reducing the large but comfortably quiet room to a scene of swirling chaos in seconds.

Daxter had been knocked off his feet. His ears rang, his head and left arm ached alarmingly, and his eyes burned with the smoke and dust that was rapidly clouding the room. Stunned, he lay on his side in a pile of debris, half curled into a small orange ball as the room's harsh fluorescent lights flickered and died.

_Wha' the heck just happened?_ he wondered dazedly. He knew that he had been standing on the table next to where Jak was sitting. They had been laughing at some joke or another one of the rebel soldiers was telling. And then… Vainly, the ottsel tried to push himself upright.

Where _was_ Jak? He hoped against hope that the green-blonde had only been knocked down or stunned, as he had been, and remained unhurt. But at the same time, he couldn't help but fear the worst. Surely by this time an uninjured Jak would have found him, come to help him, or at least been calling his name.

Sensitive orange ears swiveled like periscopes. The explosion still echoed in them, but Daxter could faintly make out some of the sounds around him. There was screaming, of course. The lounge had been pretty full when… well, whatever had just gone down had happened. There was a crumbling, cracking noise, as if large pieces of concrete were falling and crashing together. And he could detect a strange hissing, snapping sound, accompanied by sporadic flashes of light.

_Uh-oh._

Struggling hard, Daxter managed to turn over and prop himself up on his elbows despite the flares of pain the movement caused. What he saw confirmed his suspicions; that was most definitely not a good sound. The lighting fixtures may have been destroyed but the power was still on, and the live electrical cables that dangled from the partially ruined ceiling were sparking dangerously. Everyone was still yelling, panicking, running out the thankfully undamaged door, but someone needed to get on that before the whole Underground caught on fire.

The ottsel was pushing himself once more to get up when he heard it. Another sound. It was close, much too close, and entirely different but much worse than the noises he had registered so far. A low, deep growl that slowly rose in volume and pitch until it resembled nothing so much as the piercing shriek of an enraged animal. The fur along Daxter's spine rose without his control as the door slammed behind the last evacuee, and he felt rather than saw the looming presence above him.

_Oh Precursors… I hope I'm wrong, but I think I know where Jak went! _Very, very slowly, he looked back over his injured shoulder.

Jak crouched not three feet away, abnormally pointed canines bared in an angry hiss as he glared daggers at first the closed door, then the zapping electrical cords. Sparks reflected in once blue eyes, now deep and black as pools of ink. He twitched violently at Daxter's small movement, razor sharp nails digging into the carpeting as blindingly white hair swirled around an equally pale face.

_Damn it, damn it, damn it…_ For a moment there was silence, utter stillness. The ottsel met his friend's piercing stare with a hesitant, hopefully non-threatening, smile. "Jak? Buddy…?"

Jak moved forward suddenly, a clawed hand shooting out to wrap like a vise around Daxter's upper body. The ottsel's sharp squeal of pain and fear as his wounded shoulder was constricted seemed to startle Jak, and he instantly let go. In a blind panic Daxter tried to scramble away, but was immediately seized again, this time around the middle. The tips of dangerously pointed black nails dug into his fur as he suddenly found himself helpless in Jak's grip.

_This is it_, Daxter thought with sickening clarity, scrunching his eyes shut tightly as he was effortlessly plucked up off the floor like a limp sock. _This is where I'm maimed by my best friend, who'll come to sooner or later with gore and little clumps of orange fur all over him and won't know what he did! _

It seemed to the ottsel that he had just gotten his best pal back, and now he was going to be killed by the very person he had spent the last two long, lonely years trying to help. It was all so incredibly unfair. Dangling resignedly from Jak's hold, Daxter held his breath and waited, nearly sick with fear.

However, nothing happened. With the smaller creature securely in his grasp Jak carefully backed away from the door and wires, still growling viciously.

_Wait, what…? I'm not dead? _Daxter tried to think over his pounding head and gasping breaths as Jak slowly retreated into a far corner of the dark room, clutching the ottsel to his chest and snarling all the while. This made no sense. Jak was supposed to be completely senseless, berserk even, in dark eco mode. Why hadn't he been ripped limb from furry limb?

For what seemed like forever Daxter stayed limply draped over his friend's arm, too hurt and frightened to move a muscle, as all sounds other than the crackling of the wires and the rumbling of the chest against his ear faded away. He wasn't sure what to do. He was in no condition to try to get away from the eco-transfigured hero, and even if he could he would surely be caught again anyway. And making a run for it might make Darkie mad…

Unable to help himself, Daxter began to tremble at the thought.

Then, all at once, the growling above him stopped. Daxter could literally feel the body he was crushed against relaxing. And, as if a switch had been flipped, all signs of aggression ceased. Rather than flashing his threat display to an empty expanse of room, Jak was suddenly bending to gaze very closely at the ottsel in his arms.

Dax flinched, well aware of the fact that his friend currently had fangs. Rather long, scary fangs. Jak's face was so close he could feel hot breath on the fur of his neck. The ottsel kept his eyes closed, trying hard to stay calm as he was thoroughly inspected. _Oh please don't bite me, __please__ don't bite me. One snap of those choppers an' I'm toast!_

Jak did not bite, though. Instead, he almost seemed to be sniffing at the ottsel inquisitively.

This wasn't right. People didn't act like this when they had been turned into ravening eco monsters. Daxter had no idea what to think. He was startled into speech when, without warning, Jak suddenly began to lick at the shallow cut over his eye. "Ow! Hey, that stings! Knock it off!"

Jak ignored the weak protests, continuing the strange task with single-minded enthusiasm.

Finally, made brave by annoyance and discomfort, Daxter placed a palm firmly on his friend's pale face and pushed him away. "Jak, _stop it!_ That's gross! I need a bandage, ya idiot, not you slobberin' all over me!"

If Dark Jak had been chastised by the scolding, he didn't show it. Long, pointed ears slowly perked as he looked down at Orange Lightning, cocking his head curiously. Daxter stared right back, still somewhat nervous. Just because he hadn't been eaten and/or mauled yet didn't necessarily mean that he wouldn't be when Jak lost interest in messing with him.

"I, uh… don't suppose you'd be willin' ta put me down, huh buddy?"

Jak tilted his head further and blinked those big black eyes, obviously confused. And, despite his lingering fear, Dax was hard pressed not to laugh.

"Jak, listen. Put. Me. Down." Speaking slowly but firmly, willing his voice steady, he pointed at the ground as he said the words. This time the request seemed to get through to his friend, who slowly lowered him to the floor.

As soon as he felt firmly on his feet, Dax thought about bolting. Jak was no longer acting dangerous, but the hero was still far from normal. Until he returned to standard form and lost the claws, fangs, and horns, it was probably better to be safe than sorry. But… something held the ottsel in check. He took a few careful steps toward the door and, as expected, Jak followed along. Daxter didn't feel like he was being pursued with malicious intent, though, so let it be.

_Hmm… as a small furry animal, I darn well ought'a know when I'm bein' hunted. And right now I'm not on the menu. Alright, that's good, but __why?_

Jak had never been in dark mode for this long before. Usually it was a very quick (and messy) affair, just long enough to rip apart a few erroneous Krimzon Guards or lay the smackdown on an encroaching metal head. Then, when the threat was gone, the green-blonde would almost immediately return to normal. So, what made this time different?

The reason became apparent as Daxter wandered closer to the exit, one hand held absently over his throbbing shoulder and orange fur glowing brilliantly from time to time in the light thrown by the sparking wires. The door was uncomfortably close to the loose cords, but they needed to get out of there. Dax didn't know what had caused the freak blast, but he did know that if it had happened once it could happen again. This area of the Underground headquarters would be considered unstable until Torn could send in a team to figure out what had happened.

"Well… come on, pal." Giving the live wires as wide a berth as possible, Daxter slipped over to the door. Or at least, he tried to. Out of nowhere a huge hand descended, roughly pinning the tip of his tail to the floor. "Jak?"

The hero was crouched down to his smaller friend's level, firmly keeping him from going any closer to the danger zone. He was growling again, low in his throat, baring his teeth at the twitching wires that could flash fry a careless ottsel in seconds. Then his gaze darted beyond the wires, into the darkness. Where the explosion had come from.

_He's still nervous_, the ottsel realized. _He knows it could happen again, too. That must be why he can't change back—his subconscious is waitin' fer the danger ta come back! An' he's… protectin' me…?_ The last thought made him feel unexpectedly warm inside.

"C'mon, Jak," he soothed quietly. "Look, I know ya don't like this. Heck, _I _don't much like this. But if we can just get out'a here we'll be fine, okay? We gotta try. Come on, while we still got light, huh…?" If he could get his friend out of there, away from the perceived threat, surely then he would be able to let go of the dark eco and return to normal.

Slowly, the gentle coaxing did its job. Once again the growling subsided, and at last Jak cautiously followed Daxter around the wires to the door. Relieved beyond measure, Dax stretched up to triumphantly grab the handle. Home free, baby! Only… the handle turned, but the door did not open. He frowned, jiggling the handle sharply. "What the heck—?"

Behind him, Jak picked up on his sudden distress and made an uneasy sound.

"It's fine, pal, everything's okay," Dax was quick to assure. "Just… come here an' shove, huh? Push on it, like this…"

Under Daxter's direction, Jak leaned a broad, sturdy shoulder against the door and pushed. Nothing. With a snort of annoyance, he pushed harder. Some give, but not much. Hardly anything, really, the resulting crack was barely wide enough to slip a piece of paper through.

"Okay, that's enough. Stop it, Jak." Suddenly too tired to move, Daxter leaned his back against the impassible door.

They had been barricaded inside. That was the only explanation. Unwilling to face Jak in crazed eco-mode tearing through the base unhindered, their companions had confined him inside the ruined room the only way they could. And trapping Daxter along with him had been an unfortunate side effect.

_If they even thought about me at all._ The ottsel blinked blearily. _They prob'ly didn't. I mean, it's not like anybody but Jak'd miss me in the first place…_

The sudden tortured shriek of scraping metal jarred Daxter from his morose thoughts, forcing him to bend nearly double and clap his hands over his ears at the horrendous sound. Jak had stretched up, almost cat-like, to dig his claws in as far up the door as he could reach and then drag them slowly down its length.

Daxter glared at his toothily grinning companion. "Ha, ha. Yeah, Jak, you sure showed that door who's boss. It won't piss us off any more by not openin' when we want it to, no sir."

Jak's little stunt had jolted him back to reality, though. Now the ottsel had to think.

He wouldn't ask the hero to strain himself trying to open the door, as chances were good that every spare piece of furniture on their level had been thrown against the outside of it. No, Jak might hurt himself. That being the case, there was only one thing for them to do: wait for a rescue party. A rescue party that would, in all probability, be a long time coming. For all anyone else knew Jak was still out of his mind down there.

Absently, Daxter watched his pale friend curiously smack at a piece of loose plaster and smile when it skittered across the floor like a flat stone on a pond. _Well, he __is__ still out of it, but not so bad. _

Well. If they were going to be stuck there for an undetermined amount of time, they would at least have to come into possession of some supplies. There was a box of emergency items in almost even room of the base, Daxter knew. They would need water, he needed bandages (and painkillers too, preferably) and they would have to have some sort of constant light source when somebody out there got smart and cut the power in their sector. The ottsel was sure they would sooner or later; power running to an unstable area was just asking for trouble.

"Humph. Maybe they should'a thought about that before they locked us in here, huh babe? I bet Tattooed Wonder'd be _pretty _pissy if he found out they let ya get burned to a crisp. After all, if you died, who'd go on all the suicide missions?"

Jak simply flickered his ears agreeably, seeming content just to listen to the sound of his friend's voice.

The ottsel smiled crookedly. _Heh… it's kinda like old times. I guess… if I gotta be stuck somewhere hurt an' scared, at least I'm with the best company I could ask for. Even if he is a little screwy just right now. _ No matter what freaky eco-form he happened to be in, Jak would never hurt him. Daxter was sure of that now. Jak was still his best friend deep down, and that was all that really mattered.

Shaking the dust out of his fur, Dax resolutely shoved himself away from the door. Now, at least, they had a battle plan. With Jak following close at his heels the ottsel felt his way across the room and into the dark shadows behind the bar against the far wall, where the scant, flickering light didn't quite penetrate.

"Step on my tail an' I swear I'll bite yer ankle," he warned, groping for the box of supplies among the dusty bottles and spare glasses. Jak was following him so closely he could barely move without feeling the hero's pant leg brush his fur. "Jeez, Jak, insecure much? I'm not gonna disappear on ya, I swear."

Finally they were able to locate what they needed. Having been wedged under the counter behind a case of beer, the box was in perfect condition. _Score!_ Dax cheered to himself as he popped the airtight container open. _Oh, yeah, this is perfect._

Bandages and disinfectant spray, some spare ammo, freeze-dried energy bars, a flashlight, even some good old fashioned candles and a book of matches. Everything the Demolition Duo might need to tough it out until someone came to set them free from this unjust prison. Well… almost everything.

"Huh. Kinda wish there was some water or somethin'," Daxter mused. "But I guess we can grab somethin' out'a the bar if we need a drink—"

A sudden loud crunch immediately followed by a fizzing hiss made the ottsel jump. Snatching up the flashlight he turned, frantically scanning the darkness behind him to see what had made the noise. "Jak?"

When the flashlight beam landed on his shoulder the hero froze, then slowly turned to face his friend. Daxter couldn't help but laugh, slapping a palm to his own forehead. Jak had been nosing around the bar and bitten into a beer can. His sharp canines were sunk deep into the flimsy metal, keeping his mouth wide open around the dented can as room-temperature beer frothed and trickled down his face. Shaking off the dripping liquid, he made an annoyed sound and crouched down closer to Daxter.

Still laughing helplessly, Dax obligingly reached up to take the offending object out of his hapless friend's mouth. "If ya wanted a drink, ya should'a said so. Or was this supposed ta be fer me?"

Once the can was clear of his teeth Jak grinned hugely and nudged his goggled forehead against Daxter's small hand. A present, indeed. Fondly the ottsel set the ruined can aside and reached out to pull Jak's red scarf out of its tight wrap around his neck.

"Come here a sec, big guy. Yer gonna be all sticky now. Hold still an' let me wipe this off ya." The task was a difficult one, as Jak playfully tried to pull the tattered fabric away more than once, but eventually Dax managed it. "Ya know, I'm totally gonna remember this the next time ya get all pissy with me an' start mouthin' off like yer all tough."

Daxter could really get used to this. Without anything immediate to frighten or anger him into extreme violence, having Dark Jak around was almost as good as the boyhood friend he'd had back in Sandover. He seemed just as playful, just as innocent, and just as mute. Just much, much sillier.

On impulse, the ottsel stretched up to wrap his arms around the other's neck in a quick hug. Jak didn't protest, in fact going so far as to make a pleased sounding noise and paw Daxter closer with an almost gentle hand. Dax sighed, ignoring the damp feel and strong smell of the beer-soaked scarf his face was pressed against. "Buddy, words just can't accurately describe how _very_ happy I am that we're not dead an' yer not totally off yer rocker."

He drew the line, though, when Jak started attempting to lick him again. With a snort of amusement he pushed the hero back. "Okay, enough'a that. I gotta see about patchin' myself up. Wanna help? Here, hold this end of the bandage fer me."

It was a comical business, really. Dax couldn't hold the flashlight and wrap his shoulder at the same time, so after a few fumbled attempts he lit the candles for light instead. Then Jak managed to unintentionally slice through a good length of the gauze with his razor sharp claws. With a sigh the ottsel wadded up the useless pieces and threw them aside. Finally, adding insult to injury, Daxter missed the cut on his forehead with the antibacterial spray in the dubious lighting and got a good amount of the stinging liquid in his eye instead.

"Alright, I give up," he growled in disgust, furiously rubbing at his watering eye. "Tessy, baby, where are ya with yer cute little first aid kit when I need ya?! Yer sweetie's in _need_, here!"

It was obvious Jak was laughing. His ears flicked happily to and fro as Daxter melodramatically lamented, little rumbling sounds of amusement escaping his widely grinning mouth. That amusement came to a grinding halt, though, as the steady hum of electricity in the air around them suddenly ceased. In the utterly silent void that was left behind Jak's uncertain growls seemed inordinately loud.

"Looks like they finally cut the power up there," Dax muttered conversationally as he clumsily tied off the bandage around his upper arm. "No more zappin' wires now, huh? That makes ya happy, right Jak?"

The hero didn't seem so sure. Warily he slunk back to Daxter's side, further into the dim halo of light cast by the flickering candles on the bar.

Dax couldn't help but be amused. Were Jak back to normal they would probably be cursing everyone in the Underground (alphabetically starting with Torn) for leaving them stranded, and then degenerate from there into fits of ill-mannered laughter. To see Jak all but frightened because of something as minuscule as the power being shut off was almost surreal.

"Now cut out the growlin', big guy. Yer tough, remember?" The ottsel patted his friend's knee reassuringly. "We're still okay. Actually, we're safer now than we were before."

Jak snorted and shook his head, clearly unconvinced as Daxter picked the flashlight out of the box once more.

"Well, come on, then. Since yer gonna be all nervous I guess it's up ta me ta lead our adventure today." Leaving the candles burning Daxter strode confidently into the darkness, knowing Jak would be right behind despite his apparent reservations. They would have to be quick exploring the accident site, though; Dax wanted no part of scrambling around in dangerous territory when his already sore muscles began to stiffen. "I swear, that's the last time I hit the floor that hard. Not fun, pal, not fun."

A complaining whine was all the resistance Jak offered as they cautiously approached the area that had been unexpectedly reduced to rubble, but Daxter could tell he was on his toes. At that moment there wasn't a single fiber of Jak's being that wasn't tuned to snap and lash out at anything he considered a threat. Prudently, the smaller kept a little distance between them just in case.

A gaping hole in the far wall met them. Dirt and dust still swirled and drifted in the light as Daxter shone it slowly around, trying to gage the extent of the damage. Not sure how good his friend's eyesight might be while he was in dark mode, he took care to hold the beam of the flashlight steady so Jak could see.

It was a wonder the stone ceiling hadn't fallen in. Dax was grateful, though. Had that happened, odds were they and everyone else that had been shooting the breeze in the lounge would have been killed. As it was, they could see right through the ruined remains of two walls and into the storage rooms beyond.

The ottsel whistled. "Damn, that's gonna make fer some pricey repairs. I wonder what happened?"

Hesitantly Daxter crawled over the foot or so of crumbling stone, all that was left of the wall, and into the open space beyond. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but he hoped the ottsel would be lucky enough to escape unscathed.

Jak at least seemed to be calming down again. His teeth were no longer bared as they picked their way through the wreckage of what had been the store room, though he continued to growl low in his throat. Glass shards, pieces of metal, and cracked concrete shifted and crunched beneath his heavy boots as he followed his friend.

"What a waste'a food," Dax lamented. Though most of it had been in crates of cans and jars, pretreated, and would have been blasé at best when and if they got any of it to eat, it was still food. Orange Lightning was sorry to see it go. A once-canned tomato squished unpleasantly when he put his foot down on it, and he made a face. "Let's hurry. Move it or lose it, Jakkie-boy."

The next room over, in even worse condition, looked more than ready to cave in at any moment. Daxter was smart enough to know better than to chance going inside. Standing by the broken wall, he struggled to remember what had been in this particular room. The scraps and shards of metal on the floor and wedged into the stone walls by the force of the explosion were the only clues he could see. While he pondered, Jak came to a stop beside him.

"Rowr?"

The ottsel glanced up at the obvious question. "I think this is where the furnace fer this level is, buddy. Err, at least where it _used_ ta be. Maybe that's what blew everything sky high…?"

Jak seemed to be considering. Without warning he suddenly ducked down and slipped into the small room.

"Jak!" Daxter hissed. "Get back here!" Worriedly he scanned the light back and forth, nearly jumping out of his skin when a piece of the ceiling the size of a dinner plate came tumbling noisily down. "I'm sorry I indirectly called ya a wimp, alright, now get out'a there before ya get yer ass killed!"

He need not have been concerned, though. In seconds Jak was back, leaving the room as quickly as he had gone in. Carefully gripped in one clawed hand, though, Dax could see something strange.

"What is that?" The ottsel wrinkled his button nose. "Don't go riskin' yer neck ta drag weird crap out'a…" He trailed off as Jak proudly dropped the prize in front of him. It was part of the broken shell of an eco grenade.

"Rowrrr."

Daxter abruptly felt faint. "Who the hell kind'a moron stores spare weapons an' ammo near a _furnace?!_" he shrieked, the desire to slap someone stupid rapidly growing into a need. "I swear ta the Precursors, if I ever find the idiot who did that I'm gonna—ah, dammit—we could'a been killed!"

Breathing hard, leaning up against Jak's supportive knee, the ottsel took a short moment after his rant to try to be thankful. The grenade that had gone off had been defective, that was obvious. If it had gone off at full strength there would have been nothing left of it for them to find. And probably nothing left of them, either. If not for every horrible thing he and Jak had already been through in the past couple of years, he might have thought someone was watching out for them.

When Jak bent down and tried to pick him up, Daxter didn't protest. He allowed the hero to carry him back into what was left of the lounge, still holding tightly to the flashlight and wincing only minutely as long black claws accidentally nicked through his fur. On the way he instructed Jak to test the door in the first storage room, but it too seemed to have been blocked from without.

"Too bad, so sad," he sighed when Jak placed him gently on top of the bar next to the candles. "Looks like we really do hafta wait fer somebody ta come back. However long _that_ takes."

Preoccupied with grumbling to himself, Dax didn't notice that his friend had moved away until the unmistakable sound of ripping upholstery caught his attention. Jak was pulling cushions off the lounge sofa.

"Hey, knock that off! If we're gonna be stuck here all night I'm sleepin' on that, so go be bored an' wreck somethin' else!"

The hero didn't seem to want to destroy the sofa, though. He merely pulled off all the cushions and wrangled them into a pile in the corner, half shielded by the bulk of the sofa and a side table. All Daxter could see outside the ring of meager light were two shiny black eyes glinting at him from the corner.

Dax sighed deeply. "Look, pal. I know yer a bit hung up on security right now, but would it kill ya ta just lay on those while they're _still on the sofa?!_"

Being annoyed with Jak was useless, though. Ignoring the question, he soon left the pilfered cushions and became intent on a new goal. As the ottsel watched he made his way to the small closet adjacent to the bar.

"What're ya doin' now? There's nothin' in there you need."

Undeterred, Jak tried to open the door. He couldn't quite grip the round knob, though, as his claws got in the way. Pawing at it in vain for only a few moments, he soon moved to plan B and put a simple fist through the thin barrier. Daxter was thrilled.

"Ya do realize, I hope, that's gonna come out of our none-too-bountiful-under-normal-circumstances paycheck?"

An unconcerned rumble indicated Jak's feelings on that subject, if his dark eco-saturated mind could even currently process something as abstract as the concept of paychecks and costs of damage to the base. He stepped back nimbly as the broken door swung open and a pile of dishrags tipped off a top shelf to scatter across the floor. One of the last to fall settled on his head, draped over the tip of one sharp black horn.

"Love the look, Jak. Really." Dax observed from the bar as Jak dug into the shadows of the closet, emerging with an armful of towels and rags that were obviously meant to be used for cleaning purposes. The ottsel's ears twitched as he watched his pale friend move the findings to the corner and toss them on top of the sofa cushions. "I really don't think I like where this is headed…"

Without preamble Jak flopped onto the improvised nest. There was a stretch and a contented sigh as he settled in, peering out of what was certainly his new safe zone. Dax was not impressed.

"I hate ta think what got wiped up with those rags last time they came out'a that closet. Fer that matter, I don't like ta think about what's crawlin' all over those couch cushions yer layin' on." Deep black eyes stared him down expectantly from the corner. "Forget it, Jak. I'm not sleepin' over there."

"Rowr?"

"Nuh-uh. Nope. Not doin' it." Obstinately, the ottsel turned his back to the corner and hunched closer to the small warmth the candles provided. "I'm good right here, thanks."

"Rrrrr…"

"Oh, yer not gonna change my mind, pal. But, uh… if ya wanted ta put the couch back together… I _might_ consider it." A snort from the shadows. "Well, fine! Not like I really care. We might even be out'a here by the time you'd get ta sleep, anyway. Maybe."

Somewhat uncomfortably, the ottsel settled down to wait. He really did wish someone would come back. Just one person brave or stupid enough to return to check on them and he could get the word out that Jak was okay, wasn't going to hurt anyone, and it was safe to let them out of that damnable dark room. As it was, though, there was no sign of help on the way. He was tired and cold. His head hurt and his arm and shoulder were again beginning to throb.

_Okay, yeah. This totally sucks. So much fer our "day off."_

Daxter felt Jak moving before he heard him. Pretending not to notice, he ignored the pale hero until Jak was hovering right behind him. "Hey, Jak?"

"Mrr?"

"Ya think Tess knows what happened? Think anybody told her yet? This'll make a cool story up at the Hip Hog." He laughed quietly, forcing himself to make light of the less than opportune situation. "I wonder if Keira knows…"

Honestly he wondered if Keira would even care very much. Lately the mechanic had been distant toward them, at best, and toward Jak, in particular. Not that the green-blonde would ever say anything about it, but Dax could tell that her involvement with that Erol guy bothered his friend badly. Something was definitely not quite right about him. He gave Daxter the big-time creeps.

A soft hand ghosting down his spine, careful of scratching claws, brought the ottsel out of his depressing thoughts. "Yes?"

Apparently Jak had taken the question as an answer. Not bothering to ask further permission or hear Daxter's feelings on the matter, he scooped the ottsel off the bar and returned to the chosen corner. Dax was less than pleased as he was unceremoniously dumped into the "nest." He immediately tried to scramble out, but a big hand shooed him back in.

"Lemme go, ya nut job! I told ya I wasn't gonna sleep here, damn it!"

The hero's expression clearly said that oh yes, he was. And Dax really couldn't dispute that, since Jak had a firm hold on him already. He could still complain with the best of them, though.

"If I get fleas off'a these rags I'm gonna—" he began warningly, but prudently shut his yap when Jak gave him a sidelong look with those black eyes. "Uh… never mind." Jak wouldn't hesitate to give him a small thump when his mouth ran away with him under normal circumstances, and the ottsel wasn't keen on experiencing that when his friend was ten times stronger and had ten times less self-restraint than normal. His tiny skull might not survive it.

With a huff, Dax turned his back on his friend and curled himself into a tiny ball. Alright, so he had to sleep there. He didn't have to like it.

"I should'a crawled out through the vents an' left yer bossy butt," he growled, declining to comment on the arm that snaked around him. Nor was he obligated to recognize the fact that the towels and cushions were soft, and smelled like fabric softener. But he did, grudgingly. "Meh… maybe somebody in this joint knows how ta do laundry after all."

The growl at his back was almost smug as Jak pulled him closer, tucking the ottsel close to his chest. Despite himself, Daxter shivered appreciatively as the warmth of his friend's body heat began to seep into his aching muscles. Perhaps this wasn't _quite _so bad as he had thought.

"Okay… so campout on the floor was kinda a fun idea. I'll let ya have that."

He could still clearly see the flickering light from the candles across the room, but where they lay they were completely concealed by the shadows. Dax could almost admit to understanding why Jak felt more secure in the corner, with barriers on all sides and the only way out in front of them. Yay for survival instincts.

_Like anybody's gonna mess with us anyway,_ he thought wryly on a wide yawn. _Most of 'em would prob'ly rather take on a full nest of metal heads than bother Jakkie-boy when he's darked out. Hmm… I guess that makes me the safest ottsel around._

A sleepy squeak escaped him as Jak bent to nuzzle fondly at the back of his neck and shoulders. Maybe it was weird. Maybe he should nudge the pale dark eco-sponge that was his best friend away. Just then, though… Dax didn't really care all that much. Suddenly he didn't care about a lot of things.

Praxis and his mindless minions could go to hell. Their fellow rebels could forget about them. Keira could change, date creeps, and neglect their friendship. Even Tessy-kins could wait a while. Right then all that really mattered was the Demolition Duo, safe and, most importantly, together.

With a sigh of near contentment, the ottsel reached back and scratched lightly under Jak's goatee. The simple action earned him a pleased sound that was almost a purr. "Get some sleep, buddy. Who knows… maybe when we wake up you'll be back ta normal, huh?"

A noncommittal rumble from the hero was all the answer Dax got, but he didn't mind. Chuckling quietly, eyes slowly falling shut, the ottsel snuggled closer. And minutes later, a small smile on his furry face, he drifted off to sleep.

- // - // - // - // -

The End.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

(2nd) AN: D'aww. How cute. Yeah, I think that drowned my need for the warm and fluffies for a while. That said… there's another version of this hidden on AdultFanFiction dot net. In that one, Dax is not an ottsel. And, yes. There will be yaoi. Just tossing that info out there, if anyone's interested.

Now, for your eye rolling pleasure, a smallish outtake.

- - - - -

Daxter: Oh, Jak, I knew ya wouldn't let the dark eco take over and murder yer favorite little sidekick! (hugs Jak's knee) I love you, buddy!

Dark Jak: (smile) ((happy purrs)) _That's it, little orange kibble… let my playfulness lure you into a false sense of security. Now, where'd I put the ketchup…? _ (licks lips)


End file.
